


Sharing is Murder

by chronicopheliac



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But so is Hannibal, Canon-Typical Violence, Jealous Hannibal, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Possessive Behavior, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03, Rough Oral Sex, Tumblr Prompt, the usual, will is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 04:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "just.. Will getting off on angry!Hannibal like.. Hanni almost killing someone for touching Will or Will on purpose pissing Hanni off to see.. hmm the inner monster unleash?? xD"





	Sharing is Murder

There had always been a sense of entitlement where Will was concerned. Hannibal hadn’t liked Chilton fumbling about in Will’s head, nor had he appreciated Jack’s unyielding demands on Will’s time. Curious as he’d been to see what happened to Will under pressure, ultimately Hannibal preferred any and all influences to be his own.

But that was in the past. Now, Will was his and his alone. Nearly every waking moment was spent together. First out of necessity, then out of habit. Hannibal came to appreciate the anxiety that knitted Will’s brow if he was gone too long.. And the fact Will hadn’t moved to his own room since they fully healed. They maintained a respectable distance, but Hannibal could feel the heat and weight of Will’s body beside him.

Which is why it was curious that this morning, Will was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t unusual for Hannibal to wake up alone - Will was an early riser. Sometimes he went for a jog, or some fishing at the pier. But Will’s fishing gear was still in its customary place, and his running shoes were in the closet. 

However, his nice Italian leather loafers were missing.

The ensuite bathroom was still humid from Will’s shower. The smell of cologne lingered, too. He’d bought it for Will when they had risked a final jaunt through New Orleans, before they left America behind. It was unusual for Will to wear it unless they were going out.

Hannibal made himself some coffee. A bit of toast, and a spinach and feta omelette for breakfast.

Lunch consisted of prawns, artfully arranged in little bowls of rice with minced pork and ginger. Hannibal took his time, garnishing with edible flowers from the garden. He ate alone.

He’d just started on dinner - filet mignon and steamed vegetables (because if he was going to waste Will’s portion again, he may as well waste something worth complaining about)  - when he heard the front door. He remained in the kitchen, unwilling to make a fool of himself by rushing to the door. 

He smelled Will before a word was spoken. The cologne, of course, and… someone else’s. Some spices - a restaurant? He caught Will grabbing an apple from the counter from the corner of his eye.

“I’m making dinner.”

Will took a bite of the apple. “I see that. What’re we having?”

“Filet mignon. You’ll spoil your appetite.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Hovering by Hannibal’s shoulder, Will leaned in to inhale the scent wafting from the oven. “Smells good. Rosemary?”

“Yes.” 

Hannibal refused to ask where Will had been. It wasn’t as though Will owed him an explanation. Sometimes, despite their comfort in closeness, they also needed some space. If Will had anything to share, he could share it of his own accord.

“I’ll go wash up.”

* * *

Of course Will didn’t share a thing. No hints as to where he’d been. After dinner, they sat together in the living room, Will with a book and Hannibal with a sketch. The rest of the evening passed as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

* * *

Though the incident wasn’t forgotten, days passed in the usual way. Will was home in the morning to share breakfast. Helped with lunch by catching and preparing some fish. Eventually, Hannibal no longer felt any need to question Will about that day. He counted it as an anomaly. 

“Are things okay with you, like this?”

Will’s voice brought Hannibal back from his thoughts. They were in bed, doing some night time reading before sleep.

“In what way do you mean?”

“It’s been pretty domestic.” 

A curl fell across Will’s forehead. Hannibal resisted the urge to sweep it aside. “Are you not satisfied with domesticity?”

“Are you?”

Hannibal removed his reading glasses and set them on the nightstand with his book. “I’m satisfied to be free, and to have you with me. I… needn’t ask for more.”

The answer didn’t seem satisfactory to Will. “Don’t you miss other people, Hannibal? The opera? Showing off? You could go out, you know. Just because I don’t like the opera doesn’t mean you can’t go.”

“You’ve made it very clear you aren’t comfortable with… extended time apart.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe it’s time to get over it.”

Hannibal tilted his head, questioning.

“I’ve been thinking of moving to the guest room.”

Something tightened in Hannibal’s chest. “By all means. You aren’t obligated to stay in here.”

“… Right. So. Probably tomorrow.”

“Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Will put his book away and turned off his light. “Uh-huh. … Good night, Hannibal.”

“Good night, Will.”

* * *

Over the next few days, Will was gone often. Sometimes, he didn’t return until dinnertime. Or not until after Hannibal was in bed. He always came back smelling faintly of that other cologne again. And cigarettes.

Will came close to inspect what Hannibal had on the stove. “What’re we having?”

Hannibal had to stop himself from leaning back into the heat of Will’s body. He’d… missed it, since Will moved to the guest room. An uncomfortable thing to admit, even to himself. “Braised pork trotters with rice and vegetables.”

“Miss Margot?”

Hannibal’s lip curled. “The butcher had a fresh supply this afternoon.”

“Ah.” Will went for a sliced vegetable on the counter, but Hannibal slapped his hand away.

“Please change your clothes before you sit for dinner.” Hannibal’s lip curled. “And shower, perhaps.”

“Shit, that bad huh? Sorry.” He didn’t sound at all sorry.

And again, nothing more was said on the subject.

Later, however, Will brought out an envelope and handed it to Hannibal. “Almost forgot about this.”

Arching a brow, Hannibal opened the envelope to find a single ticket to the opera. One. Solitary. His jaw clenched, but he smiled. “Thank you, Will. That’s very thoughtful.”

“Figured you might like to get out for once. Maybe meet some people. I got you a box seat.”

“I take it you have plans of your own, that evening?”

“Yeah. Oh, and I’ll be going out again tonight, so if you hear someone coming in late, no need to get all murder-y.” Will made a stabbing motion.

“Noted.”

* * *

It was good to see the opera. Even without Will. Hannibal had usually gone to the opera alone, in the past. But still, there was a sting at Will’s absence. Since their little tumble off the bluff, Hannibal assumed they’d be able to share in such things. All things.

There was no use in lamenting it now. Will made his desires clear, and they did not include accompanying Hannibal to the opera. Or, it seemed, spending much time with Hannibal at all.

Instead, Hannibal mingled. If nothing else, it was a good way to get himself used to his new name - Alberto. A few people seemed promising as potential dinner guests, but no one stood out. No one who might hold his interest. Not like Will.

After the performance, he left the opera house chatting with the least tedious of those he had met. A woman who reminded him a great deal of Mrs. Komeda. 

“Albie!” Will’s voice rang out down the sidewalk. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Hannibal caught sight of Will approaching, his arm draped over another man’s shoulders. He stiffened, and forced a warm smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Good evening, Sebastien.”

“Was the opera any good?” 

The man beside Will had his arm around Will’s waist. Hannibal couldn’t help noticing, but tore his eyes away quickly. Not quick enough, however - Will caught him.

“It was an excellent performance, thank you.” Beside Hannibal, the woman cleared her throat. “Ah, forgive me. Sebastien, this is Julieta. Julieta, this is my… housemate. Sebastien, are you going to introduce us to your companion?”

Hannibal knew enough about Will to see his expression held a thread of irritation. What he couldn’t discern was why it was there.

“Right. This is Tomas.”

Tomas laughed and nudged Will with his hip. “You didn’t tell me you lived with such a pretty old man.”

Hannibal could admit he indulged in a little vanity, but never before had the issue of his age felt like an insult.

Rude.

Will laughed. His eyes crinkled with it, and it lit up his face. Hannibal thought of lush forests and beautiful meadows and the warmth of spring.

“Didn’t I? You should see him in the morning, not nearly so pretty.”

“You’re still pretty in the morning.” Tomas all but nuzzled at Will’s ear. Will’s cheeks turned pink.

The forest in Hannibal’s mind wilted and died. Had Will spent the entire night out? When? How had he missed it?

Will’s eyes went straight to Hannibal, but he tilted toward Tomas. “Only if I haven’t slept.”

The forest was set alight.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from enjoying the rest of your evening.” Hannibal looked to Julieta, and held out his arm. “Shall I walk you to your car, Julieta?”

“Oh! Yes, please.” If she was insulted by Will’s lack of acknowledgement, it didn’t show. She was likely too enchanted by his attractiveness. Hannibal couldn’t blame her.

“Don’t wait up!” Will shouted after them.

Hannibal didn’t reply.

* * *

He didn’t see Will again until the following evening. Wearing the same clothes from the night before. Will headed straight for the shower, then came down in fresh clothes. It seemed he was leaving again.

“Shall I just assume you won’t be joining me for meals any longer?”

“Yeah, sorry. Got plans.” Will reached past Hannibal at the counter for a banana. He was close enough that Hannibal could practically taste the soap on Will’s skin.

“With Tomas?”

“Mmhm.”

“Are you seeing this young man, now?”

“Well, I’ll be seeing him tonight.” A non-answer. Will flashed a grin. “Not sure if I’ll be home tonight so don’t wait up.”

And then, he was out the door.

It was too much. Like being cut out. Again. Excised from Will’s life in the most painful, insidious way. Worse than the last time Will had rejected him. This time, there was nothing holding Will back. No wife, no Jack, no preposterous notions of ethics. No reason Will should push Hannibal away except for the simple fact he didn’t want him.

The thought was unbearable.

Hannibal took off his apron, grabbed his keys, and headed out. It was time to see where Will was spending his time.

* * *

It was fortunate Hannibal knew Will’s truck well. It was easy to pick out in traffic. He trailed him into the downtown area, and to a parking garage. From there, they continued on foot until Will reached a dance club.

Rage twisted Hannibal’s gut. It was bad enough Will was going out so often, and with this _Tomas_. Will voluntarily going to a club was rather a shock. Although, it was still early enough there was no line. Not too much of a crowd. Hannibal waited a few minutes before going in after him.

Will was standing at the bar with several people, laughing. Hannibal spotted Tomas beside him. Far too close. Will whispered something in Tomas’ ear. Tomas laughed, then kissed him with the casual intimacy of a familiar lover.

Hannibal’s rage flared. The forest had turned to ashes. He bit the inside of his cheek. Here was not the place to make a scene.

He got his opportunity when the club began to fill with more people. Will said something in Tomas’ ear, and they headed for a door at the back. It was heartening, just a little, to see Will didn’t seem to appreciate the crowd. There was something Hannibal still knew of him. He hadn’t changed quite so much.

He followed them through the door, and saw them disappear through another, into the back alley. Excellent.

Will was waiting for him there. How long had he known Hannibal was following him? It was likely, Hannibal thought, Will knew from the beginning. Cruel, insidious beast.

“I was wondering when you’d come over.” Will crossed his arms over his chest, an eyebrow raised.

“Were you.”

“You’ve been following me since I left the house tonight.”

Hannibal clenched his fists. “Yes.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“You’ve been… absent. I wanted to see where you’d go.”

Tomas scoffed, and sidled closer to Will. An obvious show of ownership. The gall. “How is it any of your business?”

“You’d be wise to keep your mouth shut, dear Tomas,” Hannibal ground out. He held Will’s gaze.

“You can’t talk to me like that. Sebastien, you won’t let him talk to me like that, will you?” Tomas stepped back, urging Will to defend him. Imbecile.

“Tomas, shut up.” Will didn’t spare him a glance.

“You can’t talk to me that way, either! Why are you letting this asshole follow you around–”

“Tomas.”

“–I thought you said you were barely even friends–”

“ _Tomas_.” 

“–What is he to you, anyway?”

Will took a step toward Hannibal. “That’s a good question. What am I to you?”

“You are…” Hannibal hesitated. The answer was not so simple. Will was… everything. Nothing. Slipping away, somehow, despite all they’d been through.

“What. What am I, _Alberto_?”

It was a challenge. A push. But to what end? Did Will mean to revenge himself after all? Have Hannibal make the first move, so he’d be justified in ending him at last? Or was it something else?

The best way to find out was to play.

Hannibal straightened his back and lifted his chin. “You are mine. Perhaps I didn’t make it clear: I don’t like to share.”

Before Will could respond, Tomas interrupted with a bark of laughter. “He is yours? Since when? He says you’ve never laid a hand on him. That you’ve lost your edge! He says you’re _boring_!”

Will frowned. “I did no–”

“I will tear your throat out for speaking to me that way.” Hannibal sneered.

“Yeah, what can you do, old man?”

Hannibal looked back to Will, a question in his eyes. _What do you expect, dear Will? What game is it we’re playing?_

Will didn’t move. It was as good as permission.

Hannibal lunged at Tomas and pinned him against the brick wall. He snarled, “I will show you what I can do,” grabbed Tomas by the hair, and bit into his neck with all the strength he could muster.

He had always considered it good fortune his teeth were sharp. They sank easily into Tomas’ flesh. Tomas tried to scream, but Hannibal muffled it with his hand. He tore a chunk of skin away and swallowed it. Tomas flailed and scratched and kicked, reached for Will in a panic.

Will merely watched.

The wound wasn’t very deep. Though it bled profusely, it wouldn’t flow quickly enough to kill him. Hannibal gave Tomas’ head a sharp twist, and dropped him to the ground.

A loud sigh came from behind.

“Took you long enough.”

Hannibal turned. “My apologies. Next time you take a lover, I’ll be certain to eliminate him immediately.”

“Is that it? Just not going to let me have lovers?”

“No.” He stepped toward Will, a threatening glint in his eyes.

Will stood his ground. “You’re a fucking asshole. And an idiot.”

“Tell me why.”

“Why you’re an idiot?”

“Why you did this. Why you lead me here.”

“You are a giant fucking idiot.”

“Though my compassion for you is great, it is not infinite, Will.”

“Yeah, right.” Will had the gall to look amused. “What do you want, Hannibal? If I can’t have lovers, what can I have?”

Ah. 

Hannibal took another step. Will didn’t back away. He closed the distance between them, leaned in to capture Will’s lips.

His world tilted and spun. Will pressed him against the wall, crashing their mouths together without finesse. Too many teeth. Hard enough to split Hannibal’s lip. Tomas’ blood mingled on his tongue with his own. Will licked it away, grinding his hips with a violent desperation.

Hannibal clawed at Will’s back. He needed him closer. As though he might be able to climb inside. Part of him wondered if it was a fevered fantasy. It had been so long since he’d killed, he couldn’t be certain there wasn’t some adverse effect on his brain. He was lightheaded, tingling from head to toe. 

Maybe it was a heart attack

Maybe it was just Will.

A rough hand down his trousers focused his thoughts. Will wrapped his fingers around Hannibal’s cock and squeezed, biting and tugging at his lips.

“Get on your knees.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Hannibal dropped to his knees and gazed up at Will like he hung the moon and the stars. As far as Hannibal was concerned, he had. How beautiful he was, standing above him with such wildness in his eyes. 

Freeing his cock from his trousers, Will pressed the head up against Hannibal’s lips. “Take it.”

Hannibal did. All the way to the base, until he choked on it.

“F-fuck…” Will threaded his fingers into Hannibal’s hair and pulled. His cock hit the back of Hannibal’s throat with every thrust. 

It was delightful.

Drool coated Hannibal’s lips and dribbled down his chin. He struggled to breathe. His vision dimmed. He grabbed onto Will’s hips for balance and angled his head to open his throat. If these were to be Hannibal’s final moments, he couldn’t find it in himself to complain. He considered it his greatest triumph, to see Will take what he wanted. Without apology.

He could hear his blood pounding in his ears. For a moment, he thought he really might suffocate. Or perhaps he’d suffer death from internal blunt force trauma. The thought amused him.

Without warning, Will thrust one final, brutal time. He braced himself against the wall as Hannibal slid his hands to Will’s ass, and swallowed everything Will had to give. 

Will pulled out, and dropped to the ground beside Hannibal. He didn’t bother to tuck himself back into his pants.

“So.”

“Mm?” Hannibal’s hum came out broken and hoarse. 

“We’re going to have to move.”

“Mmhm.”

“You uh. Heh. You okay?”

Hannibal cleared his throat. “Y-yes.” He cleared it again. 

Will snorted.

Hannibal dropped his head to Will’s shoulder. “How long have you wanted this?”

A shrug. “A while. At least since we got here. Longer, probably.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Asshole. I was waiting for you to fucking say something.”

“And this was your solution?”

Another shrug. Hannibal’s head bobbed with the motion. “I was bored.”

Remarkable, rotten boy. “Hardly a good reason for angering me on purpose.”

“Are you complaining?”

Hannibal tried to laugh. It hurt, and he coughed. That hurt even more. “Not at all, my wicked darling. But in the future, I would prefer to be the only one who touches you.”

“You fucking better.”  



End file.
